Gives a Lovely Light
by Heart in a Headlock
Summary: Clark's candle burned at both ends for one night; and when it all came crashing down around his ears, his customary damage control simply wasn't enough. World's Finest SupermanBatman


I've been watching too much Superman: The Animated Series lately, and their characterizations are rubbing off on me. Written mainly because I feel that there are too many 'Bruce is an insensitive jerk to Clark and ends up finding he needs Clark more than Clark needs him' fics, and less of the opposite situation. Clark may be an alien, but he's a person too! Er… You know what I mean. A bit fast paced, and a bit spazzy- but the urge to write it was eating me up inside, and I figured I may as well write spontaneously as opposed to not at all. I actually like Lois, but I needed someone as an instigator for Bruce's displeasure. Mentions of interference, but no Lois-bashing here.

Not necessarily a happy little tale.

----000oo00oo00ooTheArgument00oo00oo0000----

"What do you want me to say, Bruce?! What is it exactly?"

"An apology would be nice." Calm. Cool. Only this time there was no underlying hint of affection, of danger. It was just bland- just petrifying.

"I don't owe you anything! We were never… official!" Clark grasped the word tightly, like his saving grace, the pinnacle of his argument, and was too utterly unprepared to even feel satisfaction when Bruce recoiled violently. Flinched.

And then Bruce gave him a look. A look that had every secret morning-after smile, every competitive glance given while passing each other in the hall- every deliberate, jaunty sign of affection that hadn't been given the chance to gleam through at the time. Everything Clark had been starving for, and everything Bruce had been holding back. For fear of having his heart hurt. All of it, glazed over by hurt, poisoned by those words. For fear of this happening.

Unfortunately, stubbornness was a trait Clark had taken from his adopted Kansas father, and he gave the fleeting thought not a moments consideration as he plowed on to prove his point and defend his opinion—sparing no time for Bruce's commentary. (Just as well, since the other man had none.)

"It's none of your business who I sleep with!"

"I was just under the impression you and Lois were over. Moved on, shall we say, for the sake of the argument."

Sarcasm. The lowest form of wit, and, Clark knew, Bruce's last resort when things got to the end of their rope. His final defense, fortified to hurt and humiliate and cut- And Clark suddenly found himself offended that it was being used against _him_. He, who was, bedroom liaisons or not- an ally.

So worked up that he forgot it was the form of protection Bruce only lowered himself to using when he was scared. Emotionally scared.

Broad shoulders (though not quite as broad as Clarks own,) squared themselves as expensively clad shoes planted themselves more firmly on the ground.

"Adam Puglesi. Name ringing a bell?" This was not Batman anymore, not Bruce even, but all Brucie, I'll-Fuck-You-Over-Professionally-If-You-Are-Actually-Willing-To-Believe-I'm-Stupid Brucie. With past examples to prove it. The voice was dangerously light, with something odd and unknown trembling beneath it, something Clark had never heard before.

"New intern at the Planet- seeing as Wayne enterprises does like to keep its eye on the companies we have stocks in, I would know- He's talented. And last time the grapevine grew this way, It also sounded like he was… _romantically_ engaged with Lois."

No, he actually hadn't known this. Like he was going to tell Bruce that, though. He was offended and hurt and blindsided in all of the worst ways now, and It had officially stopped being about just finishing the conversation and moving on. This was about winning.

What the hell did Wayne know, anyway?!?

"Be that as it may, I still fail to see how that matters to **you**. What, the man who couldn't spare a table scrap of affection for his own adopted son, growing emotions for me? Don't try to play the guilt card on me."

Though most didn't know it, that was untrue- and wholly uncalled for. Damned if Clark could bring himself to care at the moment.

Three seconds of painful silence passed, painfully smug on the part of the Man of Steel.

Then fist hitting flesh. With a feral, inhuman sounding roar, Bruce lunged at the Kryptonian, baited. (If it were anyone else, it wouldn't have mattered.

If it were anyone else, it wouldn't have hurt nearly as much. But it wasn't, and it did, and if the green lanterns got to go around throwing **goddamn temper tantrums, **then he was entitled to get his just desserts on this hick, this farm kid, this _boyscout-_)

This fucking _man_ who had stolen his heart and disregarded it.

The man who had decided to sleep with his ex, Lois lane, after the Thanksgiving Ball.

Everything was 'official' with Batman anyway, relationships included; an unspoken rule that everyone damn well knew- even Kent. And he _did_ love Dick- though sometimes he failed to show it in the traditional ways.

"Zeus! Like **petty, squabbling ****children** you two are-"

Diana had entered, taking the scene in stride and looping Kal-El away from Bruce with her lasso, a disgusted look on her face.

"_Men."_

Everyone who still remained in the hall of justice had gathered to see what the commotion was about. After thirty seconds of silence tense enough to be cut, Bruce Wayne stormed out of the room like a bat out of hell. Clark Kent was smiling.

-------TwoWeeks-------

Two weeks passed, and Batman hadn't arrived at another one of the JLA meetings. Not an unusual thing in itself, since he only ever came before when the topic was posing a direct danger to Gotham or her citizens up until a few months ago- but he _had_ been coming more. Ever since- Clark. The attendance stopped the night of their argument.

Kal-El, 'last son' of Krypton, Kansas farm boy and superhero, thought he was going to throw up. Batman had cut off contact with all other supers. Refused to heed calls and ignoring all summons. He had withdrawn into Gotham, shunning any threats unless they were directly pressing to his city.

Most of all, he had been ignoring Clark. Something new within the Kryptonian, something primal and base, was throwing a fit. What if Bruce wasn't safe, what if he was injured somewhere, too proud to call for assistance- what if he was _seeing someone else_? Something vengeful clenched in Clark's gut, and he tried to convince himself it wasn't anger, wasn't vengeance, wasn't the urge to forcefully demonstrate exactly why Bruce could only be _his_…

There it was, the pinnacle of Clark's worry. These… _feelings_. Not the affection, not the lo-(_'No'_, he promised himself, _'I wont say it'_)- not.. that, either, but the anger. The rage, sadistic fury, not at Bruce (never at Bruce), but towards all of those who associated with the aristocrat, everyone who wasn't he himself. Clark had gone through this more briefly, much less powerfully with Lois, but _this-_

Bruce had helped stop this. Made the alien feelings, the lingering instincts that still made him feel so foreign, go away. Jor-El had said that, due to Kryptonians tremendous life spans on planets revolving yellow suns, it was just a lingering effect of a gradual, drawn out puberty. Said that this was why the thoughts started, but that they would never really leave. It wasn't normal. He wasn't normal.

Bruce had made him feel normal, because Bruce was just as strange as Clark, as Kal, in his own way.

The 'Sylvester and Tweety' Coffee mug in his left hand smashed under the intense grip, broken just like everything else in Clark's life at the moment.

----000oo00oo00ooThreeWeeks00oo00oo000----

Clark had never felt worse in his life. The argument was three weeks ago, and heady anger had faded into dread and anxiety. Worry, stress, and… something darker. Something he didn't want to admit was there, something that embodied the foreign-ness in Kal-El, the un-ignorable urge just to go find Bruce and take him away, protect him, claim him.

Which was _stupid_ and **irrational**, since Clark knew better than most that the Gothamite needed no protection.

Clark suddenly harbored a deep resentment for his lack of knowledge about his home planet's customs and rituals. There were more crystals, he knew for a fact- maybe Bruce could extract the informa—Bruce.

Bruce could figure out why this was happening to him. Bruce could stop it.

Clark was pretty sure Bruce could fix anything at this point. This tangible loss, this gaping loneliness was swallowing Clark, the hole his comrade turned something deeper had plugged up.

The other man wasn't out to figure him out or break him down, just to see what he was all about, and maybe what made him tick. Bruce knew what it was like to have somebody invade your privacy, and knew when to keep his distance.

That was one of the biggest initial drawbacks to dating Lois—she didn't know when to stop pushing. Bruce never pushed, and it made Clark want to share with him. Because he knew his words would be safe. And, in time, realized his heart would be safe with the other man. Gotham's Guardian knew twice over the pain of love unrequited and affection brutally severed. He was the one person Clark had trusted to be straight with him about anything.

That was one of the things he admired most about Bruce.

Ironically enough, he was the one who ended up being unfaithful. Lois… Lois hugged and kissed and smiled, showing all of the signs he had been raised to believe symbolized affection and love. Affection he was so starved for, because Bruce had never learned to love or be loved like that.

He held people at arms length until they had his utter confidence, then let them in blindly without knowing what to expect or how to react, just trusting in the other party to feel their way through with caution and care.

He could be hugged, but never learned how to really hug back. He could kiss with all of the passion of the gods, but never saw the logic behind kissing for reassurance. But his eyes held trust for Clark. It just took the Kryptonian too long to realize that in the Batman's world, trust was the only way he remembered how to love.

Bruce was relying on Clark to teach him, and Clark had grown impatient. Blank eyes weren't rejection- they were confusion. He flinched not out of revulsion, but simply the novelty of willingly allowing somebody so close. Clark knew that now.

Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, though.

----000oo00oo00oo00oo00oo000----

Everything in his apartment smelled like Bruce. The covers, the towels, the handle of the coffee pot- Clark was acutely aware of all the little things. Of all the little signs that he was alone. His eyes glowed in an entirely unearthly manner, but he couldn't bring forth the effort to care.

Six weeks of this, and Clark was absolutely sure he was going insane. Was that near soundless, bare feet padding softly through the kitchen of his apartment? No that was the cat that belonged to the couple a floor down from him, asking to be let out. Soft rustling sounded like they were coming from covers, like from a self proclaimed 'nocturnal creature' about to gripe at him for leaving the curtains un-drawn- oh. He had left the window open, and the breeze was unsettling the drapes.

He stumbled in the hallway, and his heart climbed into his throat as he thought he heard soft, incredulous chuckles behind him. A half a mile away, a little girl was giggling at a bake sale. No such luck.

Clark's heart nearly shattered. Something deep within him, something natural and ancient and alive cried out in grief.

Sleepless for nights now, he was desperately tired; but _what if Bruce came back? _What if Bruce arrived, and then decided to leave because no one was there to greet him?

'_Nononononono… no sleeping.'_

The ghost of a softly masculine voice echoed behind him.

"_Let's not fight- I'm tired. Can't we just sleep? 'Cmon man-wonder, It's been a long day."_

All of the little things that Bruce— scared, emotionally scarred Bruce, did for him in affection- unnoticed. Luminescent yet dead eyes stared into their counterpart in the mirror. How he so dearly wished there was another reflection standing behind him. Pale skin was shining in the moonlight somewhere, and Clark ached to find it's owner- to apologize. He turned out the lights and climbed in bed, drifting into a sleepless coma peppered with dream-bats coming home.

----000ooo00oo00oo00oo00oo000----

"You… Ok, Smallville? You seem in a bit of a slump."

Clark was bent morosely over his desk, writing so close to his work that his nose had smudged the ink on several occasions. He didn't look up. What was the point anymore- to what end would it lead him?

He saw no reason he should be here, no feasible explanation for why he kept harboring this beautiful human façade, when he had no significant other to reap the benefits? Lois said something else behind him, something sharp and witty and angry at him for ignoring her, and Kal raised his head.

An annoyed vibration began in his chest, and he swiveled at inhuman speed in his chair to stare up at her. Why fit in with these others, inhabitants of this place he called home, when he had no one to enjoy the customs with, none who appreciated the effort?

She started at the sight of his eyes: still blue, still beautiful, but- odd. Different, unnatural, frightening with the newer undercurrents of Kal-El. Not her Clark, but Kal- whom she had never officially met, and could never understand.

"_I'm fine." _Clark enunciated.Short. Clipped. Obviously a lie, translated roughly into 'leave me alone'. Lois gave him a panicked, confused look, and It took him a second to realize he had spoken in Kryptonian. Clark felt a sudden shock of groundless resentment for the woman who had once claimed to love him. _Bruce_ knew Kryptonian.

Bruce. Oh god… Bruce.

No more waiting, no more stalling- it hurt. Every second away from the other man had become a physical pain, a horrible throbbing deep in his chest that was tearing him apart, throwing him off key- he needed Bruce. Lois had used him, been seeing the other man- and he had betrayed his love, too.

He'd walk across razors for Bruce; but had a sinking, self-loathing feeling things were too far gone for that now.

He'd broken Bruce, Clark realized with a kind of belated horror, and he might never be able to put the other man back together again.

----YouOnlyGetWhatYouGiveAway----

**A/N:** The end. I'd like to think it's a cliffhanger, but that's really just my placebo for the fact that Bruce is too proud to take back anyone who hurts him; and I want to believe in happy endings.

You don't know what you've got until it's gone.

Please Review.


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